Verses By Beordoon

Musings of a Maskuraid…

THE MANY DEGREES OF ALONE

Silence has replaced the timbre of your voice,
The silence of void,
And in place of your warmth,
My bed lies cold,
Because your body’s gone.

These arms hang empty,
These arms that used to tenderly hold,
A heart more precious than gold,
And a distressed mind is left to ponder,
If we’re truly done.

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2 Comments

  1. Melancholic… as usual.

  2. Amity

    Still waiting for your poetry collection. Don’t stop writing.

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